


dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

by Amie33



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/pseuds/Amie33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a dream, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>She nods and steps closer to him as he sighs.</p>
<p>“It is, yes. You’ve fallen asleep on your book.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

**Author's Note:**

> Post The name of the Doctor fic .  
> Thanks to Sam for her beta, and Jenn for her advice!  
> Title from the Raven, Edgar Allan Poe.

 “Hello, Sweetie.”

He jumps at the sound of her voice, and then his hearts skip a couple of beats when he can actually see her in front of him.

“How did you get here?”

“How did _you_ get here?” she answers instead, raising her brow and the words make him more confused. “Look around you.”

He does as he’s told and... Oh. The book he had in his hand a few seconds ago is gone, he isn’t sitting in his sofa anymore but standing up and even if there are still books and bookshelves around him, there are not from his library. No. His hearts clench at the sight. He is in _the_ Library. Or seems to be anyway.

“It’s a dream, isn’t it?”

She nods and steps closer to him as he sighs.

“It is, yes. You’ve fallen asleep on your book.”

He closes his eyes and bites his tongue, hard, as she approaches again, so near he could touch her if he lifted his hand.

“Multi-dimensional bi-engineers ships across history, it was an interesting book.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep reading it.”

His eyes are still closed, and his hands fisted so hard his knuckles are white. Maybe if he tries he could wake up again... But she is a few inches from him, her mere presence distracting him and how is he supposed to focus on anything else?

“For how long haven’t you slept?” Her voice is soft, rolling against him like a caress. She must try to sound angry, he knows she should be, but instead all he can hear is her worry.

“I don’t know.”

“You need to sleep...”

“No, I don’t.”

“Of course you do. Not much, but you still need to sleep. Falling on your book in your library should be a clue.”

She sounds more impatient now, but he still won’t listen. He can’t. He has to wake up. Now.

“I don’t,” he murmurs, and he hopes she can’t hear, “I’m going to wake up and prove you that you’re wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, and after a few minutes he thinks that maybe she’s gone, that he has woken up. He cracks an eye open, only to see her staring at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Have you finished ignoring me?”

He whines in frustration and closes his eyes again as she sighs.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” he breathes out. “You’re just a dream. You’re going to leave. A few seconds and it’ll be alright.”

He jumps when her hand comes in contact with his arm, and he can’t help but open his eyes, and look at her face. He knows he has lost the game against his own will the moment he finds her green irises staring at him, full of love and patience.

“I’m not a dream,” she says so softly he just wants to take her voice and make a blanket out of it so he can wrap it around him when he’s lost and cold and feels, oh, so lonely.

“Of course you are. You just said it.”

“I said you were dreaming, I didn’t say I was the dream.”

He frowns. What she says makes no sense.

“I’m dreaming. You’re an image created by my mind based on memories that make you look like her, feel like her, sound like her, but you’re not...” The name is trapped in his voice. If possible, her gaze turns even softer, and she seems to come closer to him, her hand still on his arm, her face so close he can feel her breath and smell her perfume and he wants to close his eyes again because it’s too much and it feels so _real_ he’s going to go mad.

“I _am_ real.”

“How?”He realises asking means he begins to believe her, or at least gives her the benefit of the doubt, and it’s not good.

“We still have a psychic link. And the Old Girl is helping a bit.”

“That’s plausible. Exactly what my mind would say to make me believe you’re real.”

She sighs, still not giving in.

“What do you need to make you believe I’m real?”

He doesn’t say a word for a moment, thinking of an answer. His mind can play many tricks on him, and it is hard to recognise them, even for himself (especially for himself, that’s the point). “Tell me something I don’t know. Something I can’t know,” he finally says.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breathe and almost instantly gives him an answer. “Two slash eight alpha double five zeta two nine four two three seven dot three.”

He frowns. “Coordinates?”

“Yes.”

“What will I find if I go there?”

“Well, you don’t know, that’s the point.”

“But it can be anything...”

“It won’t be.”

“But how do I...”

She huffs in what he can tell is frustration. “You can’t! Now stop it. If I tell you something you know you won’t believe me, and if I tell you something you don’t know you’ll need to check it up but you _can’t_ because you’re still asleep. What do you want? Why is it so hard to believe I’m really here?”

He stiffens, feelings like all his blood has just rushed out of his body. “Because,” he starts to whisper, then stops. He closes his eyes one more time, wondering how he will be able to say it, when he feels so much pain it could kill . “Because you said goodbye,” he finally managed, his voice barely audible.

“Oh, Sweetie.”

The term of endearment makes him shiver and he feels tears that he will never let fall prickling his eyes. He can’t prevent himself from opening back his eyes and staring at River - of course, he has lost the capability of calling her a dream. He can’t resist believing she’s real, can he?

“I’m sorry.” Her hands begins stroking his arms, up, then down until she catches his fingers and brings the fist they still form to her mouth, kissing them softly. “I should have left, I know. But how _could_ I?”

A few seconds pass that seem to be an eternity, when he simply stares at her and tries to understand what she’s just said, and she stares back, expectantly. There is hope in her eyes, and also an endless pain that seems to mirror his, and love, so much love.

Finally he lets his hand open, and she kisses his palm, before he slides it up her cheek.

“I miss you,” he whispers, the murmur a confession he would never say if he wasn’t in a dream.

“Of course you do, idiot, ignoring me for so much time.” She tries to laugh, but her voice is strangled with emotion.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t...”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

And he proves once more that he can’t resist her, the tone of her voice too demanding and his need of her too painful. He lifts his other hand to cup her face and bends just enough to press his lips against hers. She responds instantly, eagerly, her hands clutching his jacket to pull him closer as they moan in unison. It has been so long, too long since he kissed her properly, without anybody watching, and it feels even better than the last time - what he thought would be the _last_ time - even if he knows it’s just a dream. A dream he is completely aware of dreaming, controlled by his wife that should be dead and gone but who still really visits him, in dreams, so it’s real, but not real at the same time, or maybe it’s just a fantasy and he is creating all of it in his mind, maybe he won’t ever have a single memory of it or maybe he will, and he may also realise nothing of this could possibly be true, it’s impossible, because... oh dear he feels like he has never been able to kiss River that way before, it has never felt so good, it can’t be possible.

“Shut up,” River pants in the microsecond they take to breathe, before kissing him again with a passion and fervour he doesn’t remember. Her hands roam over his body, slipping under his jacket and already tugging at the buttons of his waistcoat. She squirms, her hips rolling against him as they both gasp, and he barely notices his own hands running down her back and bottom, pressing her closer, but not close enough. He aches for her in a way he never had before, wanting to touch her, to taste her, to hear her, to feel her, to have her all at the same time, to join her with him and never let her go again. He groans and she whimpers, and everything seems to get a bit messy as they move without any coordination, blocking each other’s movements in their haste, feeling her elbow knocking his ribs as his hands get trapped between them and he doesn’t even understand how, sighing in frustration, incapable of stopping their kissing, walking forwards, backwards, until they tumble...

He opens his eyes as the fall doesn’t feel as long as it should have been, and they don’t land on the harsh wooden floor of the Library they were in seconds before. Instead they bounce on silky sheets and soft cushions.

“How...”

“It’s a dream, you just have to wish.”

She winks at him and the next second he realises all his clothes have magically disappeared... And so are hers, which he really appreciates.

“I think I’m going to like having you in dreams.”

She laughs and he kisses her again, until the laughter turns into moans and gasps and cries, and he loves her until they fill the void of all the time they missed.

x.

He wakes up with a start, surprised to realise that he hasn’t moved, River still cuddled against him, and currently looking at him with those bright green eyes he loves so much and a smile on her lips.

“I fell asleep,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You did.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to wake up in, you know, the real world.”

“No.”

She answers like this is obvious, and he can’t help to wonder what it feels like, for her. Does she always feel like she’s dreaming? Does she sleep in her sleep, dream in her dream? Or is it always... Always what? Does she run? Does she have adventures? Does she have a normal life somewhere (as normal as an imaginary normal life can be)? Does she have different dreams at the same time?

“Did you dream?” she asks him, interrupting his thoughts, and he frowns.

“A dream within a dream? I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

His fingers run up and down her arm, stroking her skin gently and once again he is amazed by how much all this seems real, as real as reality.

“When you start dreaming in your own dreams,” she answers, “it’s hard to remember where you’re coming from.”

Oh. So it answers his unasked question; she dreams in her dreams too. She already has at least, and maybe got lost. Maybe she still is, and so is he. But it’s a possibility he doesn’t want to think about, so instead he tilts her chin up and kisses her softly. The press of her lips against his is marvellous, and he sighs in contentment.

“Can I be sleeping for the rest of my life?”

“Of course not. You’ll get bored.”

“Not if you’re here with me.”

He kisses the top of her head to prove his words but it doesn’t cheer her up, and she replies sadly: “You will. Believe me, you will.”

She says it like it’s something she has experienced herself, a sadness in her eyes he can’t really understand. He wraps his arms tighter around her, and thinks of something else to say - it’s like all he ever does hurts her, and he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not in the few moments they share. Not now.

Not ever.

“Will I see you again?” He asks and the moment he does he realises that’s maybe not a good idea either. But River smiles at him, hopes in her eyes for both of them.

“If you want to.”

“Only in my dreams? Or will you come and visit in when I’m awake?”

Finally he manages to make her smile, and it’s a better sight.

“I don’t know. Do you mind if the ghost of your wife wanders next to your companions every now and then and frightens them?”

He can’t help but laugh with here. “I would like it very much.”

“See you, then.”

She kisses him, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the feeling. He runs his hand into her hair, bites her lower lip gently just to hear her hum, and...

“Doctor?”

He jumps, and screams when the book he was holding dropped and hits the floor with a bang. Opening his eyes wide, he realises the dream is gone and he’s back in the Tardis, in his library, and... His hearts clench at the sight.

River is here. River, the real River, not the ghost River. All flesh and bones, curls and curves that would drive any man mad - but especially him. And he hasn’t met a real River for... For... It’s hard to tell. Centuries maybe.

“Were you sleeping?” She asks, raising a brow at him like she has just caught him doing something she would be able to use against him one day.

“Sleeping? No, no, _of course_ , I wasn’t sleeping. I was reading. See. Book. I was reading.” He picks up the book and holds it to her as a proof.

“And the snoring?”

“I wasn’t _snoring_. I was... mumbling to myself.”

“What about the trickle of saliva down your chin?”

“The... What?”

He can feel his face turning a bright crimson as he wipes away the evidence and River laughs at him. Oh god, this laugh. If the situation wasn’t so embarrassing he would... Well... He still can, can’t he?

He drops the book again and reaches her, a hand around her waist to tug her close and the other grabbing the back of her neck as he surprises her, cutting off her giggles with a kiss. She almost loses her balance as he presses against her, his kiss eager, and it takes her a moment to respond. When they part they are both breathless.

“I should wake you up more often,” she says, her face red and her lips swollen.

“As often as you want.”

He kisses the top of her head, and he feels like he won’t be able to stop smiling for all the time she will be with him this time.

“Doctor, are you alright?”

She seems to realise that grinning like that isn’t one of his habits, but he won’t tell her the truth. He can’t, can he?

“Yes, of course I am! You’re here. How... How did you even get here?”

“By the door Sweetie.”

“It was closed.”

“I was not. I just turned the handle and entered, but you were already sleeping and you didn't hear me.”

He frowns, wondering how she could have opened a door that he was sure was closed, but then the ships hums softly and he knows. The Tardis, of course. She will never be able to resist her child. He sighs, just for good measure, then can’t help but tap the edge of River’s nose - her perfect nose, with that little bump that belongs to only her, and oh how he has missed this nose.

“Of course. Right. Okay.” He grabs her hand as he twirls and then heads up to the door and to the console room. “Off we go, what do you want to do this time? Boston tea party? Planet of the dancing balls? They have every dancing style of the universe and they never end, of course you can imagine the dancing contests they make, we would win the first prize so easily! Or maybe Egypt, I know you love this one. Or...” He stops, turning back and kissing her once more before she can actually say a word. “Oh, you, you’re brilliant! I exactly know where to take you this time.”

She frowns, completely confused by how she helped him, but he knows, one day, far far away from now, she will understand. So he smiles at her, and enters coordinates he has just dreamt about. He guesses it’s time to mix up dream and reality, and see what happens...

  
_the end_


End file.
